


Inside Out

by blacktop



Series: Twice: Two-handed Stories [4]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, My First Fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 15:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacktop/pseuds/blacktop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a moment of peril, Reese and Carter find that tight spaces have a way of prompting revelations for even the most reticent of people</p><p> </p>
            </blockquote>





	Inside Out

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fan fiction story I ever wrote. Originally posted February 9, 2012.

Carter flung up the car’s hood and looked into the dusty interior.

“Do you remember the movie, 'Out of Sight?' ”

Reese stopped his fumbling with the flip phone.

“You mean the one with JLo and Clooney?”

“I never could figure out how two people could fit into the trunk of a car like that.”

“Unless they were dead.” He holstered his pistol in the waistband at the small of his back and poked more numbers into the phone’s unresponsive numeric pad.

“Yeah, well unless you got a better idea, I say we hide in here. We’re running out of time.”

The sounds of shouts from the warehouse at the other end of the parking lot grew louder. 

She took off her wool jacket and threw it into the trunk.

“I’ll get in first. Then you…HEY!”

He launched himself backwards into the tight enclosure, grabbing her wrist as he fell. She landed hard on the metal flooring and was barely able to pull her boots in before he slammed the hood shut over them.

“I TOLD you I would get in first! What the HELL is wrong with you?”

He spoke slowly, his chin jutting into the top of her head, “Shut. Up. Now.”

Male voices in multiple languages converged on the car. She could distinguish Spanish, some Portuguese that sounded more like the Ironbound district of Newark than Rio, some kind of Slavic, and a sing-song she took for Vietnamese since she knew it wasn’t Chinese. Elias was really an equal opportunity crime boss.

His arms tightened around her back and she pressed her face into his hard chest. A green smell like a musky forest pricked her nose, the fresh scent mingling with that of sweat and the tang of blood. Reese.

The angry shouting swelled for a moment, the slits of light around the keyhole flickered as the men passed by, and then it was silent.

They waited several moments in the dark, listening to their own breathing even out. He reached over her shoulder to push on the hood. It was firmly locked and he loosed a soft curse.

“Looks like we are going to be here for a while.” She felt his voice rumble through his chest, sounding amused. Rather than pissed off. Which is what she most definitely was.

“I thought you were calling Finch.” She sounded whiny even to herself.

“He didn’t pick up.”

“Well, call him again.”

“The phone is somewhere in here. But with you taking up most of the space, I can’t move around enough to find it.” Damn him, was he smirking?

“Roll over.” He pushed her shoulder. “Maybe you can find it.”

She squirmed a bit, shifting her position to face toward the trunk opening, and patted the flooring around her. Grainy, sticky, filmy, wet, but no phone.

His knees pressed behind her thighs and he adjusted his shoulder so that it covered her own. He rested his hand lightly on her hip and she stiffened.

“Sorry, it’s tight in here.” He could sound sincere when he wanted to but that didn’t sound like sorry at all.

“I can’t feel the phone. “ She shoved at the hood, on the off chance it would open by magic.

They lay together for what could have been minutes or only seconds. His hand grew heavier on her hip, not exactly pressing, but firm and warm and still.

“I guess we will just have to make the most of the situation.” His voice was a register lower than his usual whisper. 

“Now, look, don’t take this wrong, John, but I am just not into you that way.” She was squeaking. “We work together, we help each other, we save lives. That’s it. I’m not looking for anything more. And I’m definitely not looking for it in the trunk of a damn car!”

“Carter, be quiet.”

He settled his body against hers, strengthening the pressure on her hip. Lowering his face to the soft bend between her shoulder and neck, he inhaled deeply.

“You smell good, Carter. Now, no more talking.”

She waited for more movement, his stillness spooking her just a bit. Just as she was about to speak again, she felt his jaw go slack against her neck. Through his open lips breath came moist and familiar on her skin. Sleeping. The bastard.

She was trapped in a fucking car with this beautiful man snoring softly into her hair. She couldn’t turn, she couldn’t move. She didn’t want to. 

 

The slits around the key hole were dark now. But sleep didn’t come, so she counted his dear heartbeats. Strong, slow, steady as a river they came, thudding against her back until she lost track of time.

 

 

_The current was pressing her down, the dark water pulling at her legs. She knew she ought to lie still and let the torrent push her to the surface, but waiting was fatal. The water’s rancid odor engulfed her, taking her voice, plugging her ears. As she thrashed, she called out a name. She could see his outline above her on the river bank, but he never looked down, turning away from her as always._

 

 

His hand tightened around her arm, then stroked across her cheek.

“Joss, hey. It’s alright, you’re alright. Wake up, you’re safe.”

She startled awake, struggling to sit upright. His hand clamped down on her scalp to keep her in place beside him.

A wave of warm embarrassment rushed over her. Shaking? Tears? Whimpering? What in God’s name must he think of her?

“You OK now? Cause you can’t sit up, you know.”

“Yeah, I’m OK. Guess now I have to go looking for a ‘Sorry, I woke you up’ card.” He chuffed in approval.

The key hole showed it was still dark, but it felt like they had been asleep for hours.

When she shifted to ease the stiffness in her back, he flexed his hips into hers. His erection, strong and comforting, pressed against her ass.

“Sorry, I, uh, well it just happens, you know?”

“Yeah, I know how boys are. Have one, was married to one.”

He slipped his hand from her hip to rest it against her stomach and she didn’t flinch or stiffen. The time passed in silence, as if they had spent every morning of their adult lives entwined in this familiar embrace.

“Who’s Reggie?” he said after a while.

From her damned nightmare talk, of course. “You know who he is,” she said.

“Taylor’s father,” he answered his own question.

“You know all about me: where I went to college, where I served, my law school grades, when I got promoted, everything. You know every man I’ve dated and how many I slept with. Why do you bother to ask me anything?”

The shudder that reverberated through her body would have emerged as a sob if she hadn’t held it in.

He pressed his mouth to the sensitive rim of her ear. “Yeah, I know lots of things about you, Joss. But I want to know you, as you.

“Like, I know that that guy you went out with last weekend owns a chain of dry cleaners and is putting a hefty down payment on a brownstone in Jersey City. His Afro and his Chivas Regal are straight from the Eighties and he talks too fast. I know these things, but I don’t know how you feel.”

She laughed and placed her hand over his, pressing it against her stomach, feeling the warmth radiate from where he touched her.

“Would you keep following me if you had me all figured out? I don’t think so!” 

He outlined her throat with kisses in response and she laughed again. His heart was beating hard against her back and she thought she felt him groan.

“John, we gotta get out of here, now.” Was that croak really her voice?

She turned her head, hoping to get a glimpse of him as the gray light filtered in past the key hole and the edges of the trunk’s hood. 

“Hey! You poked me in the eye with that ridiculous barrette!”

She felt, rather than heard, the intake of breath. “Give it to me,” he whispered.

A few swift twists and he had the ornament out of her hair. He hummed with satisfaction as he demolished it. 

“Switch places with me,” he ordered and she rolled under him, smiling in the dark as he balanced over her carefully so as not to crush her. A gentleman and a soldier.

Silently he worked his implement into the key hole and the damn lock gave way after only a few strokes.

Reese eased himself from the trunk, unfolding slowly and stretching his arms toward the sky. He took her hand and pulled her out, a smirk creasing his face.

Carter retrieved her coat, stained with oil, sludge and dead insect matter from the floor of the trunk.

Under it was the damned phone, which summoned Finch and Fusco in no time.

When the partners arrived at the warehouse, flustered and fuming, they found Reese and Carter sitting on the trunk of a blue sedan, looking for all the world like they had spent a lovely hour picnicking in the park. 

Infuriating, insufferable, and blessedly safe.


End file.
